Part 30 (1/2)

”Oh, yes; what was that about some method of killing animals instantaneously to avoid the horrors of the slaughter-house? Professor Theobald has been saying what a pity it is that a man so able should waste his time over these fads. It would never bring him fame or profit, only ridicule. Every man had his little weakness, but this idea of saving pain to animals, Professor Theobald said, was becoming a sort of mania with poor Fortescue, and one feared that it might injure his career. He was greatly looked up to in the scientific world, but this sort of thing of course----

”Though it is nice of him in a way,” added Lady Engleton.

”His weaknesses are n.o.bler than most people's virtues,” said Miss Du Prel.

”Then you number this among his weaknesses?”

Algitha, who had joined the group, put this question.

”I would rather see him working in the cause of humanity,” Miss Du Prel answered.

Ernest surprised everyone by suggesting that possibly humanity was well served, in the long run, by reminding it of the responsibility that goes with power, and by giving it an object lesson in the decent treatment of those who can't defend themselves.

”You must have sat at the Professor's feet,” cried Miss Du Prel, raising her eyebrows.

”I have,” said Ernest, with a little gesture of pride.

Lady Engleton shook her head. ”I fear he flies too high for ordinary mortals,” she said; ”and I doubt if even he can be quite consistent at that alt.i.tude.”

”Better perhaps fly fairly high, and come down now and again to rest, if one must, than grovel consistently and always,” observed Ernest.

Lady Engleton gave a little scream. ”Mrs. Temperley, come to the rescue.

Your brother is calling us names. He says we grovel consistently and always.”

Ernest laughed, and protested. Lady Engleton pretended to be mortally offended. Mrs. Temperley was sorry she could give no redress. She had suffered from Ernest's painful frankness from her youth upwards.

The conversation grew discursive. Lady Engleton enjoyed the pastime of lightly touching the edges of what she called ”advanced” thought. She sought the society of people like the two Professors and Miss Du Prel in order to hear what dreadful and delightful things they really would say.

She read all the new books, and went to the courageous plays that Mrs.

Walker wouldn't mention.

”Your last book, _Caterina_, is a mine of suggestion, Miss Du Prel,” she said. ”It raises one most interesting point that has puzzled me greatly. I don't know if you have all read the book? The heroine finds herself differing in her view of life from everyone round her. She is married, but she has made no secret of her scorn for the old ideals, and has announced that she has no intention of being bound by them.”

Mrs. Temperley glanced uneasily at Miss Du Prel.

”Accordingly she does even as she had said,” continued Lady Engleton.

”She will not brook that interference with her liberty which marriage among us old-fas.h.i.+oned people generally implies. She refuses to submit to the attempt that is of course made (in spite of a pre-nuptial understanding) to bring her under the yoke, and so off she goes and lives independently, leaving husband and relatives lamenting.”

The vicar's wife said she thought she must be going home. Her husband would be expecting her.

”Oh, won't you wait a little, Mrs. Walker? Your daughters would perhaps like a game of tennis with my brothers presently.”

Mrs. Walker yielded uneasily.

”But before _Caterina_ takes the law into her own hands, in this way,”

Lady Engleton continued, ”she is troubled with doubts. She sometimes wonders whether she ought not, after all, to respect the popular standards (notwithstanding the compact), instead of disturbing everybody by clinging to her own. Now was it strength of character or obstinate egotism that induced her to stick to her original colours, come what might? That is the question which the book has stated but left unanswered.”

Miss Du Prel said that the book showed, if it showed anything, that one must be true to one's own standard, and not attempt to respect an ideal in practice that one despises in theory. We are bound, she a.s.serted, to produce that which is most individual within us; to be ourselves, and not a poor imitation of someone else; to dare even apparent wrong-doing, rather than submit to live a life of devotion to that which we cannot believe.

Mrs. Walker suggested to her daughters that they might go and have a look at the rose-garden, but the daughters preferred to listen to the conversation.